


Laws

by Zhie



Series: Be Advised [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Banter, Gen, On the battlefield, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 17:43:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18015446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: War! Good Eru, y’all.  What is it good for? Snarky comments between Glorfindel and Erestor, that’s what.





	Laws

**Author's Note:**

> Written for B2MEM 2019 - prompts vary.
> 
> Thank you to AnnEllspethRaven for beta reading and listening to my head canons and helping me figure out the right way to use Sindarin as needed.

It was humid and the air held the lingering stench of death. Putrid odors burned the hairs of Glorfindel’s nostrils as he backed up so that he and one of the captains of Gil-Galad’s army were fighting back to back. “There should be a law against this,” he shouted to his embattled companion over the mass destruction, the clattering and clanging, and the screams of agony that neither could drown out.

“A law against war?” the other warrior asked as he used his weapon of choice, a wooden staff with blades at either end, to decapitate an orc mid-run.

The head landed inches from Glorfindel’s boot. “A law against them soiling my armor with their blood.”

It seemed most did not appreciate the Imlathrim Captain’s humor, but this soldier had, each time they fought together in this war. Glorfindel had dared not ask for a name -- familiarity could lead to poor decisions in war. So this warrior, whom Glorfindel thought of only as ‘the librarian’, for on the rare occasions for rest he was always seen with an open book in his hands, now chuckled as he disemboweled another foul creature. “Well, I think there should be a law that they need to bathe more frequently. They all seem to carry with them a different miasma, and none of them to my liking.”

“I think there should be a law that once per month, we get a scheduled reprieve for a day. No pesky interruptions.” Glorfindel dodged an axe before he split the offending orc’s skull in two.

“A day? Good lord, is that how they teach you to negotiate in Imladris?” The librarian grunted as he plunged his staff into the heart of another orc. “We should get a whole weekend free!” His next target was a vicious warg, which soon was lying in a pool of blood.

“A weekend it is.” Glorfindel triumphantly killed the last orc he saw, then looked about in dismay. Orcs were piled up around them, but so, too, were elves. In fact, in the small pit where they had fought, they were the only two left standing.

‘This means we get a break, right?” asked the librarian ruefully. He walked a few paces to an orc who was still flailing an arm and easily severed his spine.

“It would be welcomed if I could endure sleep,” said Glorfindel. He had taken rest since the battle began, but sleep was harder to come by, for his mind would not rest as his body desired.

“True,” came the answer as they climbed up the hill and out of the depths of death. As they came over the crest of the hill, they slowed their steps. Before them, the enemy, a hundred strong and hungry for battle. There was no way out but through, and no rush, for they would soon be seen through the choking, smoky haze of smoldering bodies in half-lit bonfires hugging the ground, ashes of both sides scattering with every gust of wind.

“Erestor.”

“Come again?” asked Glorfindel.

“You look at me now and then as if you want to ask my name. ‘Tis Erestor.” His eyes stayed upon the enemy--they had to.

“I see.” Glorfindel tried to shake off the sudden complication. He knew, from now on, name known, they would be brothers through this battle, and Eru willing, longer than that. “And I am--”

“I know.” Erestor smirked, and Glorfindel frowned. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“No, no, you first, go on and finish it,” prodded Glorfindel. “What was I about to say?”

“And I am Glorfindel.”

“I thought you said you were Erestor.”

Erestor rolled his eyes and briefly looked at Glorfindel. “Shall we, then?”

“I fear they all stink and will bleed on us as the others did,” Glorfindel said with a mock sigh.

“So long as the blood is not yours or mine,” answered Erestor as he spun his staff and then charged.


End file.
